


Breathe into My Hands or Cup Them Like a Glass to Drink From

by Meadow Lion (Meadow_Lion)



Series: Philkas Week [3]
Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Banter, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9202211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meadow_Lion/pseuds/Meadow%20Lion
Summary: N.Y.C. barista Philip makes Lukas flustered, and turnabout is fair play.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my contribution for [Philkas Week](http://philukas.tumblr.com/post/154986102847/philkas-week-a-week-dedicated-to-philip-lukas), Day 3: Alternate Universe.
> 
> For this story's purposes, imagine that the boys are around the same age as in canon; Philip is working part-time while still living with his recovering mom and attending high school in the city when Lukas happens to visit; and Lukas and Rose are just friends.
> 
> The title is from Tattle Tale's "Glass Vase Cello Case."
> 
> Any mistakes are my own.

Slipping past a bike messenger, Lukas is glad for the engine noise and his helmet and even the thunderstorm that just hit. They keep him from understanding whatever blistering curses the messenger guy behind him yells while Lukas skids into a tiny parking space that could've fit either of them.

He shrugs apologetically but doesn't take off his helmet until he has ducked -- fine, he kind of ran -- into the random coffee shop that caught his eye from the street. He tries to get a sideways glance out the door to make sure the guy doesn't knock Lukas' bike into traffic or anything.

"Greener pastures" comes from behind Lukas.

He whips around and sees behind the counter a guy with a rosy, smirking mouth.

"The messenger," that mouth continues, "he's long gone to find another stop."

"Right." Lukas may be lost. He blinks, dragging his gaze up finally to register the guy's wavy brown hair, amused eyes, and the eyebrows tipping upward between them.

"Did you want something?"

"What? I don't . . . " Lukas sputters.

Still smirking, the guy points at the menu board hanging behind his head. "If you're not going to order, I should kick you out and go after the messenger, get an actual paying customer."

"Oh." Lukas looks over his shoulder like he'll see the bike messenger there again, then mentally kicks himself. Turning back to the counter, he sets down his helmet. "No. I mean, yeah, I want some -- I mean, I'm going to order."

Silently the guy presses his curving lips together. He picks up a pen, his hand hovering over the cups.

Lukas' gaze catches on how strong that hand looks, the veins that stand out along the back and up his tanned arm. Fuck, Lukas is _totally_ lost. He picks the first thing he sees on the board. "Gimme a coconut crème brûlée macchiato. Large, or venti or whatever."

The guy tilts his head. "Wow, I would've figured you for straight-up black coffee, maybe with a packet of white sugar."

Scoffing, Lukas ignores that normally he probably would've ordered exactly that and says, "Sounds straight-up boring, dude."

"Uh-huh." The guy grabs a large cup to scrawl with shorthand for whatever the hell Lukas said. "Is whipped cream interesting enough for you? Do you need almond milk? And can I get your name, or should I just make it out to 'Dude'?"

"Make out, what, why would we," Lukas starts before his brain catches up, sort of, with his mouth. Over the guy's not-really-suppressed snort of laughter, he says, "Shit, just write 'Lukas,' okay, give me regular milk, and yes to the whipped cream."

Teeth digging into his bottom lip, the guy writes again and puts down the cup to ring up the order. "Five twenty-seven."

Lukas hands over a ten. Fumbling for his equilibrium while the guy makes change and prints a receipt, for the first time Lukas looks around the rest of the shop. It's empty, everyone else on the street apparently having sought refuge elsewhere from the rain.

He faces back to the counter. "Why do you even need my name? I'm the only other person in here."

"Force of habit," the guy says with a shrug. It looks, though, a little too casual? The guy turns to make Lukas' drink.

Lukas fights the smile growing on his own face because he doesn't want to give away that ground yet. He takes his time stowing part of the change in his wallet and putting the rest in (weird) a gravy boat that looks like a cow on its side, with a laminated paper note that says, _Tip away._

When he looks up again, his drink is on the counter. The guy's expression is mostly blank, but a muscle in his jaw ticks.

Lukas wants to feel that under his tongue, right now. He absently licks his own lips. The guy's eyes follow the movement, and there goes that muscle again, and this will be a cycle soon. Lukas takes a deep breath to get any oxygen to his brain. He digs for casualness too. "So tell me your name and we'll call it even."

The guy gives him a look that clearly asks if Lukas is serious, and points to the nametag on his chest -- a pink triangle with glittery letters that should've been really hard to miss.

Heat climbs up Lukas' neck into his cheeks. Raking a hand through his hair, he says, "Philip. Got it. Thanks."

He lifts his cup and knocks back a gulp of it, scalding but surprisingly good.

Another good surprise is on the outside of the cup. Lukas looks up again at Philip. "How'd you know to put a K instead of a C in my name?"

Philip's hands are curled together on the counter. Lukas wants to know if Philip's fingers would look and feel as good tangled with his own as he imagines. Holding his gaze, Philip says, "I guess I could just tell you were . . . "

Lukas holds his breath during the pause.

"Not straight-up, black-and-white."

That startles a laugh out of Lukas, which earns him a smile from Philip that could actually be the sexiest thing Lukas has ever seen. A second later his register for sexiness is broken, because Philip is stroking a warm, callused thumb over Lukas' upper lip. Lukas chokes.

Philip's hand drops. "Sorry. There was cream."

Swallowing hard, Lukas sets down his cup. He can't help a quick glance over his shoulder, but they're still alone in the shop -- and, he tells himself, people don't care here anyway, not like in Tivoli. Before he can get caught up in any more thinking, he reaches out to grab Philip's hand.

Philip twitches slightly but doesn't pull away. His jaw ticks again. The shuttered look in his eyes heats, turns molten as Lukas brings his hand back up and sucks clean the tip of his thumb. He makes a noise in his throat, and Lukas flicks his tongue in reaction. Philip's eyelids flutter. He breathes Lukas' name.

Grinning, Lukas lowers their hands but keeps a hold of Philip's. His own breathing choppy, he asks, "Did you want something?"

With his free hand Philip swats Lukas' shoulder, but he grins too. "Well, now I think you _have_ to give me your phone number."

"Oh, I do, huh?"

"Yep."

Lukas lets go of Philip's hand to scribble his number on the back of his receipt, but he doesn't give up the paper yet. He nods toward the front of the shop. "Have you seen that storm? I'm not going anywhere."

Looking past and then back at Lukas, Philip shakes his head and jokes, "Damn, too bad."

Outside the skies have completely cleared, and the sidewalks are filling again with people. Inside Lukas is more grateful than ever for the rain.

~ end ~ 


End file.
